


You are my sin

by The_MoonBear



Series: Praise the Lord [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Priests, Anal Fingering, M/M, Priest Kink, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-30 02:30:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19843705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_MoonBear/pseuds/The_MoonBear
Summary: Jesus said they should love each other, but he never said how, or whom, they should love. Father Hannibal knows this very well. Will Graham is not so sure, and he's not sure that desire counts as love either.





	You are my sin

“Sister Bedelia”, the tall priest called upon as soon as he heard the blonde nun leave the chapel. 

“Father Hannibal, how can I help you?”, she inquired in a soft whisper, her blue eyes dark with concern, her elegant hands clutching her rosary so tightly her knuckles where turning white. Something in her dignified stance made the priest suspect she had preferred avoiding him that particular afternoon. 

“I haven’t seen Will all morning, I was wondering if you have”

The nun lowered her gaze at her tight fist.

“I haven’t seen him take his breakfast today, father, nor he has attended mass”, sister Bedelia informed, her head shaking with an involuntary reprove. “Father Frederick visited him in his cell and he claims Will is alright, but this is not a typical behavior in him. Not even the foulest illness prevented him from serving his duties in the past-”

“I’ll go seeing him myself, sister, worry not. Be at peace”, he reassured her with a slight touch in her arm. 

Sister Bedelia’s squint would’ve have gone unnoticed for anyone, but not for Hannibal.

“I am at peace, father. Are you?”, she sneered, finally unable to hide her discomfort any longer. 

Her long strides echoed along the cold hallway, leaving the priest amused at her occurrence. He could tell she was sincerely concerned about the young man’s state, which was the least anyone with minimal decency would do. But sister Bedelia always perceived more that what went through her own two eyes, and of course she had every right to feel uncomfortable. 

As he strode peacefully across the convent’s gardens towards the cells where seminarists lived, Hannibal reflected about the only dweller in that part of the enclosure.

Will Graham had found them during the cruelest of winters two years ago. Some deep existential crisis was tormenting him, and finding the path God had made for him had helped him staying in track. There was something about the fervorous lives of the holy saints recorded through their meditations that took Will out of the overwhelming depression he had been for too long, giving him a sense of purpose. 

There he was, two winters later, only weeks ago from being initiated as a deacon. 

Hannibal felt proud of his younger pair. Not many were able to find their path and being brave enough to walk through it. The religious life was one particularly tortuous ladder to climb, even when your heart and soul were aligned with your faith. 

As he came closer to his junior’s door, he had to recognize that he had been weak more than once. He hoped God would be looking elsewhere everytime he glanced at the young man across the pews during the sermon, tarrying in his blue eyes, wondering if his prayers included him. The long hours the young man meditated in solitude should not have been such an aching trial, and yet they were. Which is why he was there, he recognized.

After almost an entire day off and having skipped a meal, he could hardly stand the idea of his Will withstanding alone whichever evil could be affecting him. 

The priest smoothed down a nonexistent crease in his black coat before knocking, suddenly fearing what he might find across that door. The three dull thuds resounded on the vaulted gallery, echoing back dozens of similar sounds. 

The muffled scream inside the cell startled him.

“Will?”, the priest urged.

“Who is it?”, Will demanded in a low, raspy voice.

“It’s Hannibal, are you alright? May I come in?”, he urgently inquired, his words hastily running over each other in his need to reach the man. A flutter of some kind happened inside the cell and, finally, the long awaited ‘come in’ in the same raspy tone. Hannibal swallowed hard before entering, feeling frankly terrified.

The scene he had pictured in his head was far worse than reality, which didn’t mean it wasn’t alarming. The man was sitting half naked at the edge of his bed, his hair a messy bundle of unattended curls, his light skin stained with a sickly ghostly shade and hundreds of little sweat drops. His glassy eyes wouldn’t stay focused for more than a second and he was rocking back and forth grasping a rosary like a savior table. The room was stone cold.

Hannibal wasted no time closing the door and approaching the man.

“Will, talk to me, look at me”, he ordered in a low, patient voice, the kind one would use to persuade a scared lamb to follow you. 

The young man focused on the priest’s maroon eyes for a few seconds only to violently lower his gaze, shame rushing over him like a punch in the gut. Tears started falling from the flooded pools in his eyes, and Hannibal felt the urge of holding him. Will grappled to the priest’s thick arms, his lean shoulders trembling under the crushing emotion it was tormenting him. And although still worried, Hannibal couldn’t help but reveling in the warm skin under his firm hands. Every time the young man took a deep breath, one hand caressed his spine as the other gently tangled with the soft damp curls. Hannibal dared wishing his ministrations were the cause of the man’s trembling, the deep longing stinging his chest as he wondered how he could help Will.

“Will, please, talk to me”, he ventured when he considered the worst had passed. His junior got up slowly, still clutching the rosary. He could not still stare at the priest, and some feverish urge compelled him to pass on the beads, a desperate prayer to keep himself collected. Hannibal tentatively laid a hand on Will’s stubbly cheek, not quite foreseeing the outcome of his little gesture.

Will jumped back, unaware of the wall being a lot closer than he had calculated, therefore colliding against the cold stone, his head getting a hard stomp. Hannibal got up immediately so he could check any potential damage, but the man had a contorted expression on his face and he was raising both arms in front of him, as if he was protecting himself from him.

“No”, he mouthed out of breath, “stay away from me, please”

“Please, tell me what’s wrong, I can’t stand seeing you like this”, the priest gulped. The strain in his body was becoming painful as Will wandered father and farther from him.

“I’ve… sinned, father, and you shouldn’t be here”, Will mumbled finally staring at Hannibal with an intensity that was not there a few seconds ago. Or maybe it had been there the entire time, and what was the reason he could not bare looking at him… Every inch of the priest’s skin tingled.

“Will…”

“Go, leave me, please”, the young man begged sliding down the wall, lacking the strength to stay standing. He found himself curling up on his stomach, eyes closed, trying to get some air from his open mouth.

The scene was excruciatingly hurtful, and Hannibal felt helpless. He tried coming closer to Will, but he desperately moaned in retreat and the priest had to stand back. Although he had no intentions of leaving him alone, he wondered if given Will’s evident dismay it wouldn’t be the right thing to do giving him some air, despite his every bone telling him otherwise. 

He was already turning around and opening the door when, out of nowhere, a steel hand dragged him back inside. He was manhandled with such strength that he saw stars. Will had used his inert weight to close the door and hid livid face was now barely inches away from his own face.

“How can you sleep at night… so peacefully… letting me drag myself to hell?”, Will bickered, his voice sharp with constrained wrath he was releasing against Hannibal’s thick neck. The priest felt numb at Will’s gale, albeit his entire body was waking up.

“I don’t-”

“No, you do”, Will mocked with a trembling finger over the older man’s thin lips, “you must know. I’ve done nothing but crawling to hell ever since I got here”

“Will, this isn’t you, please tell me what’s happening”, Hannibal begged staring at Will’s watery blue eyes, blotchy from tears. The mad gaze stirred something dark in his gut that made him hungry in a dangerous way.

“It’s your scent, Hannibal! Your damn scent that messes with my thoughts and leads me to sin!”, Will cried coming even closer to the priest’s angled face. He let go of him as suddenly as he had grabbed him and resumed his nervous pace around the room, twisting his hair in despair and going back to bed, his head falling between his hands. He was crying again.

Hannibal was astonished. He was not quite sure of having heard well, and yet he felt the need to sniff himself. There was nothing more extraordinary than the remains of the incense he had always used during the morning service, and he could not really understand why that particular scent would derange the man so much.

“My scent?”, he innocently inquired. Will panted in disbelief.

“You smell… like a saint”, he explained after a few minutes in silence, his voice coming out as a bitter report. “So ethereal and heavenly, like the wings of an angel. Angels are different from us, they don’t doubt, don’t they? They are perfect, but they understand we are not. They stare at God and they are made of Grace and love, and they forgive us for being imperfect beings. And they smell like you”

Hannibal walked slowly towards the man who was spitting his confession to the stone floor. He didn’t shift when he sat besides him.

“I know I… shouldn’t think of your perfume and feel that my skin is on fire, but I do it all the same and today I couldn’t bare going to the morning service and pretend that I felt none of that”, Will continued, locking eyes with Hannibal. He didn’t dare blinking.

“Every night I lock myself in here and I think of you, of your scent, your smile, your voice… I imagine your arms around me, your hands over my skin, whispering unspeakable things in my ear until my skin stops burning. And it’s a sin, and I don’t care”

The priest listened to every word in slow motion, suddenly being painfully aware of Will only wearing a pair of pants. 

“Only it does matter, isn’t it?”, Will continued frowning at the ceiling, as if looking for an answer in a particularly desperate prayer, “it does matter, because you are sacred, and forbidden, and that turns my love into a sin”

“Love is never a sin, son”, Hannibal reassured in a whisper, placing a hand softly on Will’s knee. The man let out a sigh at the motion. “Never, in any circumstance. For in love is the Lord, so it can’t be a sin”

“How can it not be a sin loving a sacred man?”, Will insisted with his face contorted with shame. Hannibal moved his hand towards his cheek, except this time he didn’t move. A tender flush spread under his touch.

“Do you believe in God, Will?”

“With all my heart”, Will affirmed with tears streaming down his eyes.

“Do you believe, deep in your soul, that He would punish you for loving someone? Whoever they are?”

Will stared at Hannibal’s eyes as he meditated his answer.

“I believe… that Jesus told us to love each other as much as he loves us, and that is the one true commandment”, he finally mouthed.

“Then nothing else matters”, Hannibal agreed, moving his hand to the back of Will’s neck. The seminarist trembled at his touch, unmistakably responding to the priest’s presence.

“Will you bless me, father?”, Will muttered standing on one knee on the mattress, coming closer to Hannibal and grabbing the sides of his neck with both hands.

“Why?”, he was able to inquire before getting to close and inevitably lose the ability to think clearly.

“For I’m about to sin”, he added out of breath before crashing his lips against the priest’s. The man growled and took Will by the waist, making him straddle him and pulling him as close as two people could be.

Will’s mouth was a wet, warm cave, sweet as desire, greedy, demanding of a long needed touch that Hannibal was more than able to provide. Each time his tongue caressed Will’s, he sighed with abandonment, getting drunk on the taste of that holy mouth. Will’s hands were tangled with his grayish hair, tugging every time his skilled hands moved over his naked back, and a little harder when he ventured a firm stroke over his soft rounded ass.

Hannibal felt in trance, not questioning once if this was right or wrong. Didn’t it feel glorious, after all, being finally able to have Will in his arms as he had always wanted? Didn’t it feel piacular when Will posed his lips over his exposed neck and then removed the clerical collar with his teeth, making sure to lock eyes with him while still holding the white stripe in his pout? It could not be wrong if he felt so close to the heaven’s doors right where he was.

Soon, the suit, the shirt and his shoes were crumbled in the floor and Hannibal was pressing Will into the thin mattress with his sturdy body. The sounds the young man did when the grinding got heavy were driving Hannibal to a long forgotten frenzy. In his youth he had been a lustful being and he thought he had had enough of it by the time he entered the order, but apparently God had wanted him to know Will Graham. The sheer lust in the young man’s eyes moved such dark desires in him that he feared this might be, indeed, the Devil’s work. But the way Will kissed him with such devotion persuaded him otherwise. This was right.

Hannibal removed Will’s pants with a slow motion, reveling in the sight of his lean body flexing at the feel of the fabric moving over his sensitive skin. Will’s toned abs moved up and down with his ragged breath, and his hard cock was already leaking. He grabbed it and started a tortuously slow stroke, feeling his heart set on fire when he heard the sighs and whimpers that left Will’s parted lips every time he went up and down his shaft. He had submitted completely to his ministrations, and he would make sure he would be satisfied.

“Spread your legs for me”, he asked, a sudden blush spreading over Will’s cheeks. He thought it was plain bashfulness, until he placed a pad on the tight ring of muscles and he noticed it wasn’t so tight as he had expected. It was, actually, quite worked out and oily.

“Were you getting ready for me, Will?”, Hannibal ventured with a crooked smile, teasing at the swollen entrance with circular movements, “were you thinking of me when you fingered yourself?”

Will’s entire body trembled when a thick finger passed through the entrance, his back arching with the pleasure. Hannibal held him steady on the mattress as he fucked him with his finger, adding a second finger not long after the first one. 

“I wish you could see how beautiful you look right now, Will. I feel so blessed to be the one to see you like this”

“Don’t stop, Hannibal, please, I’m so close”, Will begged shutting his eyes closed at the waves of pleasure starting to rise in him.

“Look at me”, Hannibal commanded, the young man complying with easiness. The priest curled his fingers inside Will, finding his prostate just in time to watch Will collapse and cum with a deep grunt, spurting string after string of hot sed over himself and over Hannibal’s hand. As soon as the last spasm rushed through his body, Will tried to get up so he could clean them up, but Hannibal softly pushed him over the mattress again. 

“Keep looking at me, Will”, he said as he darted his tongue out and started licking his hand clean. He indulged himself licking the seed out of Will’s still hard cock as well as his abdomen, feeling his muscles contract under his tongue and hands. Will felt like crying again when Hannibal searched for his mouth after licking him clean, grabbing the sides of his face in an act of sheer want. How could he still want more? As if reading his thoughts, Hannibal smiled and kissed him once more before climbing out of bed.

Will tried not feeling so disappointed when he saw the priest starting calmly dressing, even though he was visibly hard under his formal pants.

“Will you come back?”, he doubtfully asked him as he handed him his coat.

“It’s up to you, Will”, the priest pointed out coming closer to him and placing a loose strand of hair behind Will’s ear. It took a little smile out of the man. “Comply with your duties, eat when you must, and I’ll come to you every night, if that’s alright”

Will nodded vigorously, and Hannibal rewarded him with a forehead kiss.

“Good boy, see you at supper then”, he whispered as he lead towards the door, leaving Will to dress himself. And then he remembered.

“Will?”

The younger man arched an eyebrow as a question. Hannibal gave him an meaningful smirk.

“If you’re going to use the holy oil to fuck yourself, don’t use the one in the chapel, sister Bedelia is getting suspicious”

As he left Will alone with his bashfulness and his prayers, he thanked God himself for the gift of Will Graham. He had sent him straight to his arms as an act of love, and none of what happened in that room could ever be wrong. He loved the man, after all, and nothing done from a place of love could be a sin. 

And after all, he reflected as he got ready for the afternoon service, sins were holy in a way. Without sin he wouldn’t have a reason to beg for forgiveness, to learn and earn God’s Grace again. 

The sound of Will’s orgasm was, after all, a well committed sin, and he would make it again a thousand times. God wouldn’t have wanted any other way. 

**Author's Note:**

> JESUS TAKE THE WHEEL is my first time writing Hannigram, I hope I didn't screw this up. I discovered this old draft and it was originally a Shevine fic but since I'm watching Hannibal again I was all HEYY what if they are priests and they use the oil instead of lube because I can always honor my catholic education a little bit more


End file.
